Discovering the Mainland – Part 1

The thrill of encountering an alien civilization coupled with the horror of being absolutely clueless and helpless is a feeling that remains un-replicated.

I travel to China quite often, and as much as I crib about being there, I’ve realized that a trip to that country is never fruitless. I’ve always gotten a story out of it. Granted some of them tend to be rather embarrassing. Nevertheless, each of those incidents has been a learning experience in more ways than one.

However, there’s nothing like the first trip that I undertook eight years ago. The thrill of encountering an alien civilization coupled with the horror of being absolutely clueless and helpless is a feeling that remains un-replicated. If only I hadn’t been dressed in a cheap pair of shorts and tee, I could have seen myself walking along the famed footsteps of men like Marco Polo or Ibn Battuta.

China, you see, is unlike the West – or the region that has come to be known as the West. It’s not a place that, at least then, excited my desi imagination. Even though there are large parts of the West that I hadn’t visited, it still felt like a comfortable place to move around in. Colonial imprint, satellite TV and the English language had ensured that those parts of the world, although un-traversed, felt familiar.

In contrast, all that China did was invite images of military discipline, sweatshops, and angry people exchanging chops mid air. The only other association that I had was with their cuisine. However, an early-life American chop suey experience in Mumbai had ensured that I was overcome by nausea at the very thought of Chinese food. Clearly, the Americans have long been trying to build India as a counter to China.

So there I was standing at the cusp of discovering one of the oldest civilizations known to man. It was an overnight bus journey from Hong Kong to a small town in the south of the mainland, where a cousin of mine resided. I was young and uninitiated enough to be nervous, but old enough to have the pride of not letting that show.

In all honesty, it was quite scary experience to be in a bus-full of people with whom communication was impossible. Everything, everywhere was written in local script. No one spoke or understood English. And if you ever asked a question, all you got were giggles from the girl who was manning the bus. That’s a common feature in China. Women form a sizable portion of the workforce and they often giggle uncontrollably when greeted by a stranger. At first, it was quite flattering to find out that I could have such an impact on a woman. It was a massive shot of ego. But with time, I’ve learned that it has nothing to do with me. That’s just how they do things here when they can’t figure out a word of what you’re saying. So the only solace that I had then was that the bus had beds. It was the first time that I had encountered buses with beds and tiny personal TVs!

So I pulled off my shoes, draped the sheet and rested, safe in the knowledge that mine was the last stop and my cousin would be waiting there for me at about seven in the morning. A few hours later, at 4.30 a.m., the bus pulled over and everyone got off. I lay there blissfully ignorant. That was until the girl came back and asked that I vacate. I resisted, but her giggles had vanished and before I could say much else, she along with the driver had chucked me out – my shoes followed me soon after.So there I was, standing alone at a small bus stop at an ungodly hour. I tried calling, but my cousin chose not to answer. I tried again and again – only enjoy the beat of a torrid tune. I later found out that he’d had one too many beers at a barbeque the night before and didn’t seem to remember that I was due to arrive.

Standing there, however, I wondered where I was. There were no signs around that could inform me of the town’s name. So I did the next rational thing. I walked across to a bunch of cab drivers and asked them. It seemed like the best thing to do, until one of them grabbed me by the arm and tried shoving me inside his car. I resisted and then came another. That went of for a few minutes, with all of them laughing and arguing with each other. One by one, cab and bike drivers attempted to corner me. Some hugged; some pulled the arm; and there was one who even hovered around with a sadistic grin, communicating only through strategic brow movement and by blowing fancy smoke rings.

Later I realized that it wasn’t an act of maliciousness. All that they wanted was to get business. The Chinese are rather touchy-feely that way, at least the cab-driving men are. However, at the time, horrified beyond belief, I fled my predators and holed up inside the tiny vestibule-like waiting area. I can vaguely remember entertaining thoughts of being lost forever, spending the rest of my days as farm labour or domestic help at a local rich-man’s home, waiting to someday see my homeland again. I believe there were beats of Swades that rang through my head while I pondered over who would play me in the movie.

Alas, it was not to be. A few minutes later, my pick-up arrived and I raced away relieved. But that, as they say, was just the beginning of discovering the mainland…